I’ve certainly never been without my moments of ditz (refer to I have a Confession … My Blondest Moments Exposed) but since having children those moments have risen substantially to the point that I have a story for almost every occasion.
Not only do I have increasing numbers of embarrassing moments to recount, I also have trouble with the simplest tasks. Like remembering whether I washed my hair the day before. Or was it the day before that? Something so simple that I struggle with on a daily basis. I try to remember but I just draw a total blank. Do I remember lathering shampoo in my hair? Combing through the conditioner? I should be able to recall something like this in an instant but … complete blank. I just cannot. Washing my hair ever second day should not be this complicated! My memory is like a sieve. Names, faces …
Have you ever heard of face blindness? Well I swear I have it. It’s become a running joke at work how I will serve a customer, wander off for 5-10 minutes to do their job, come back and not recognise which customer it was I was serving. I’ll have to whisper to a colleague ‘Which one was mine?’ in order to avoid total humiliation. If I was quizzed on what the customer before them had looked like, I wouldn’t have a clue. I just do not retain faces. To be fair, I had this issue prior to children so I cannot blame them entirely for this lack of recognition.
The worst case of this was one time when a foreign lady came into work with all her important security papers for copying – passports, visas, birth certificates, the whole shebang. I took them and told her to come back. An hour or so later she returned and my workmate served her. Her English wasn’t the best but she was trying to tell him she had come for her papers.
He asked us all if we had served her ‘No, not me’ ‘Nope’. So he told her she must be mistaken.
‘But I need them!’
‘Sorry, we don’t have them’
‘But I need them! They my papers! I need them, very important!’
‘Well, I’m really sorry but I’m afraid we don’t have them. You must be mistaken’
Twenty minutes of this roundabout conversation later (by this time she was crying) I suddenly realised that I had served her! And she was thankfully reunited with her special important papers while I ran and hid.
I have never (nor will I ever!) live it down.
This is a recurring theme at work. I’ll answer the phone these days and take a message. ‘Jim called, here’s the number’ so they’ll call and it will turn out his name was not Jim at all, it was Ian!
I just cannot retain the simplest things.
I’ve tried those mind games you can get on your phone that are supposed to help you with your memory but it doesn’t seem to have done much. Add alcohol to the mix and my mind is mush. I had 6 wines on Saturday night and then stared blankly at a technician yesterday afternoon as he said something to me that I just couldn’t quite comprehend. It took me a few moments to click what he was saying as my mind just seems to take an age to catch up with itself.
Last week I managed a real doozy. Somehow I enrolled my husband in primary school. Yes, you read that right. I filled in an online form and sent it off before receiving a reply to say they would be delighted to have Hayden join them at their school next year! I have no idea how I managed to substitute Cohen for Hayden but somehow I did. Firstly they probably wondered why someone named Haidee would have a son and name him Hayden but then I had to email the principal back and say ‘Oh no, I’m sorry! Hayden is my husband! Haha! Isn’t that hilarious! I meant Cohen! Ha!’. They probably don’t know if they want him at their school now with a mother like that (though thankfully she saw the funny side!).
I’m sincerely hoping that when the musical beds phase passes my memory and alertness might start to get better. I’m not entirely sure when the last time was I had a peaceful sleep that lasted all night. Peaceful, restful, uninterrupted. My sleep these days is restless, full of tossing and turning and moments of alertness. Every night I will feel a presence next to my bed and open my eyes to find a little boy staring at me.
‘Mummy it’s me, Cohen. I’m not a monster!’.
He will then climb in my bed and my husband will climb out and go to the sofa. By morning there are two little boys in the bed and I’ll have enough space for a broom while they lay spread eagled and snoring their asses of, content and comfortable while I literally move an inch and fall out of bed. Sometimes they don’t even sleep in the bed but rather they just crash on top.
Do you suppose this contributes to the dying brain cells?
Tomorrow I am off to get some fish oil tablets for mental alertness. It’s time to get serious. Supplement serious. Lubricate the brain with fish oil serious.
Does anyone else have any tips? Is your brain fried too? Do you have good facial recognition?
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